


inevitable

by quakeriders



Series: acotar au week [4]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boss/Employee Relationship, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Sick Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:27:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21769114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quakeriders/pseuds/quakeriders
Summary: Rhys looked at his watch, tapping his long fingers against the surface of his polished desk.Feyre was five minutes late.Which wasn’t exactly bad, but very surprising.@acotarauweek 🎄 day 04: modern au
Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Series: acotar au week [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1566274
Comments: 14
Kudos: 162
Collections: ACOTAR AU Week, ACOTAR AU Week Day 4





	inevitable

Rhys looked at his watch, tapping his long fingers against the surface of his polished desk.

Feyre was five minutes late.

Which wasn’t exactly bad, but very surprising.

She had been working for him for six months now and she’d never been late before.

And today of all days, she should have been here earlier than him. Preparing the conference room and getting everything ready. Rhys had explicitly told her that she would be sitting in on this meetings with the representatives of Scythia Corp., Demetra and Vassa.

Rhys couldn’t really bring himself to be annoyed, even if he really wanted to know that everything was on track. No, instead of annoyance a very faint feeling of worry began nagging at his mind.

He pushed the thought away.

It had snowed non-stop last night. She was likely stuck in the mess that was traffic in downtown Velaris.

And indeed, when he swirled his chair around and looked down at the street, he could see the small figures and toy-like cars that couldn’t move from the spots they were stuck in.

Not for the first time, Rhys realized that he had gotten used to Feyre being at the office before him. She always had his coffee ready, wearing an expression that ranged from grumpy exhaustion to snarky amusement and telling him what he needed to do that day.

He’d also gotten used to the way she would respond to his shameless flirting. The way she’d bite her lips and look away, trying to hide the faint blush that rose to her cheeks.

Well, the first time he’d said something suggestive to her, she had reacted very differently.

He hadn’t meant to. He’d had a few too many drinks during an office party and she had looked like an angel and he had slurred, “Did it hurt when you fell from heaven, darling?”

Her grey blue eyes had blazed, her lips pursing and then she had spoken in a low, threatening tone, “I’m not your darling and if you say something like that again, I’ll throw my drink in your face.”

He hadn’t flirted with her again after that. At least, until she had flirted first.

Well, it had just been a teasing remark about his tattoos and the way he had blatantly checked himself out in the reflection of the floor length windows, while shrugging off his coffee stained shirt and putting on a new one.

And he hadn’t been able to stop himself from saying that his ego wasn’t the only big thing about him.

Her eyes had sparked with something he’d seen many times before from many different women and when he had asked if she wanted a closer look, she had definitely blushed and spluttered her way out of his office.

After than, the dynamic between them had shifted.

She had been getting along with Cass and Mor pretty well and soon adopted their tendencies of mocking their CEO at every opportunity. But, unlike them, there was always something else in her words. A growing tension that had lead to Rhys having quite a few suggestive dreams about Feyre in this very office.

He had suspected, she felt the same way. Especially when he sometimes found her chewing on a pen, looking at him as if she was mentally undressing him.

And those suspicions had been proven right last night. He had invited Feyre to a small Christmas celebration with his Inner Circle because Amren would be leaving for Adriata today and return after New Years. They had been at Sevenda’s. Somehow, after their dinner, Rhys had ended up driving Feyre home.

And Feyre had kissed him.

It had been a barely there brush of her lips against his. Something there and gone in an instant, but it had set his nerves on fire and made him sit in his car before her apartment complex for a good twenty minutes before his brain returned to normal and he drove himself home.

He had been a little nervous about seeing her this morning, but had assumed they could be adults about it.

When he looked at his watch again, he was startled to find that she was already half an hour late. 

Rhys got up from his desk, sliding his phone into his pocket and walking out of his office. Most of the employees on this floor were already there. A few of them, spotting him, ducked their heads and began furiously typing on their keyboards.

Only one person kept munching on his croissant, his feet propped up on his desk.

Rhys approached him, leaning against the table and looked down at the messy desk.

“Morning, boss.” Cassian spoke through his full mouth. He flashed Rhys a grin and nudged his immaculately pressed dress pants with the tip of his boots. He swallowed his bite and then asked, “Why are you looking like a lost puppy?”

Rhys ignored the remark. “Do you know where Feyre is?”

Cassian snorted. “Ah. She called Mor ten minutes ago. She’s not coming in today.”

“What?” Rhys frowned, slipping out his phone again and checking for messages that weren't there. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

Cassian shrugged, lowering his feet to the floor and brushing the crumbles off his shirt. “No idea. Ask Mor.”

Rhys pushed off the desk, clicking his tongue. But instead of heading over to Mor, he decided to get his information directly from the source. He went back into his office, pressing call and holding the phone up to his ear. He barely heard the first ring, when he was sent to voicemail.

He didn’t let Feyre’s recorded voice instruct him on how to best leave a message. Instead, he called her again. And again, he was sent to voicemail after a few seconds.

When he called for a third time, he was greeted directly by Feyre’s deceptively cheery voice telling him that she was currently unavailable.

Gritting his teeth, he looked out the window.

Unlike Feyre, at least Mor picked up. Although he had to wait a while for her to do so.

“Morning.” She said grumpily.

“Why’s Feyre not coming in today?” He inquired, not able to keep the bite from his tone.

“Wha- Oh, that.” Mor said, sounding distracted. “She didn’t say much, just that she needed today and maybe tomorrow off.”

“What about the meeting?”

“I don’t know, Rhys.” Her voice taking on a note of exasperation. “It’s not like she’s the CEO. I’m sure we can manage without her.”

Rhys bit out a fine before hanging up. But it wasn’t fine. Not really.

So, Rhys called Nuala in and told her to take over the preparations for the meeting. He was torn between worry and annoyance at Feyre missing out on the meeting, but in the end his worry won out.

\--

A day later, Rhys was definitely starting to feel resentful.

Feyre’s phone had been off but Mor told him that she had called her and asked for another day off.

So, Rhys being the stubborn idiot he was, left the office around lunch time, got into his car and drove to Feyre’s apartment.

He took the elevator up to the seventh floor, locating her door and began knocking insistently.

After a couple minutes, he heard someone shuffling about on the other side and then, the door opened.

He had already opened his mouth to demand why the hell she hadn’t been to work, when he took in the sight before him.

Feyre was wearing a fleece pyjama that was at least two sizes too big for her, her golden-brown hair pulled into a incredibly messy bun atop her head and the tip of her nose was very, very red.

She blinked up at him, sniffling.

“Oh.” Rhys said, his voice very low.

Feyre’s brows nudged together and then, she sneezed, pushing the long sleeve of her top against the lower half of her face. “What are you doing here?” She asked, voice croaky and weak.

Rhys’ eyes fell down to the fluff socks on her feet and his insides turned to mush. “I- I thought you were avoiding me.”

He was pretty sure that if she wasn’t currently looking like the walking dead, she would have rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I thought dying was better than facing my boss after I drunkenly kissed him. You got me.”

Rhys was at a loss for words.

She sighed deeply, sniffling again. “Was that all?” Her eyes were puffy and it looked like they were about to droop down. “I really want to go back to bed.”

Feyre made to close the door, but Rhys caught it. “Are you.. are you okay?”

She let out a snort. Weaker than usual, but it still sent a thrill through him. “No.”

“I mean, can I do something? To make you feel better?”

“I don’t know? Leave, so I can go back to my misery?”

But Rhys was already shaking his head. “Yeah no, that won’t do. But, I make a mean soup.”

“You don’t need to-” Feyre began, but stopped when she saw his determined expression. Then, almost reluctantly, she stepped back and opened the door wider. “Fine. Do whatever you want.”

She shuffled into the apartment, leaving Rhys by the door to take off his shoes. By the time he had shut the door behind him and walked into the living room, she had cuddled into a nest of blankets on the couch.

The tv was running, it’s sound barely audible. Some shitty daytime reality show was on, but Feyre’s eyes were closed as she cleaned her nose audibly.

Rhys couldn’t help but smile. Even sick and flushed, Feyre was incredibly beautiful. Well, maybe the way she was cleaning her nose wasn’t the most attractive, but Rhys couldn’t help but smile.

He looked around, spotting the tiny kitchenette and heading over to check the pantry and fridge. He found a couple bottles of beer, some cans of beans and a two dozen packets of ramen.

And sure enough, he could see a few bowls in the sink.

He turned around, frowning. “When was the last time you ate something other than ramen?”

Feyre looked a bit sheepish as she chucked the used tissue into a small bucket at her feet. It was overflowing already. Then she shrugged, “At Sevenda’s?”

Rhys let out a long, deep sigh and pulled out his phone. “I would love to cook you something homemade, but since you’re apparently living like a freshman on a budget, I’ll have something brought here.”

Feyre let out a little snicker, that was cut off by another sneeze. Rhys bent down, pulling out a fresh tissue and handing it to her.

She mumbled a quiet thank you, then blew her nose again. After placing an order at Sevenda’s and giving Feyre’s address, he started cleaning up a bit.

Feyre, who had tucked the blankets tightly under her chin, watched him silently.

First, he cleaned out the overflowing bucket, then he collected the dishes that cluttered the living room and put them all into the dishwasher.

He put on the kettle, relieved to find at least a packet of peppermint tea in the back of the pantry and made Feyre a cup.

Then, he took a seat on the couch, leaving enough space between them as to not disturb her nest or get close enough to get sick himself.

Feyre was still watching him. But a small smile was on her lips.

“What?” He asked, unable to keep the corner’s of his own mouth from lifting up.

“If I had known all it took was a kiss to have you cleaning my apartment, I would have done it months ago.” That familiar teasing tone was in her voice.

He chuckled, shifting so his body was angled towards her. “This has nothing to do with that, Feyre. I just want to make sure you get well soon.”

“Why?” Her brow lifted, those full lips - slightly chapped now - pulling into a smirk. “Is the company already falling apart without me there to hold it together?”

He shook his head, swallowing a laugh. “Actually, if you really want to know, the meeting with Demetra and Vassa went terribly.”

“Oh, shit.” She gasped. “I forgot about that.”

The doorbell rang and Rhys rose from his seat to get the food. “It’s fine, we didn’t come to an arrangement, but set up a new meeting. You can charm their pants off then.”

“I don’t think that would be very professional.” She muttered, leaning her head back and breathing heavily.

“And yet, here you are. Doing it to me.”

She made a noise deep in her throat. But Rhys was already laughing, glad to see her cheeks flushing a lovely pink. It was different than the colour staining the tip of her nose. And again, Rhys was struck by how beautiful she looked. Even in her current state.

\--

Feyre had eaten everything Rhys had handed her. And she even drank the three cups of tea, he had kept making. Currently, she was sipping on her fourth cup, sniffling every now and then.

They sat closer on the couch now. The tv was a bit louder and they were laughing as they watched an old episode of a sitcom.

Rhys’ phone rang, surprising him. He had forgotten the world. The curtains of the living room had been shut tightly and only a dim light was on. But as he pulled out his phone, he saw that is was only 4pm.

And Mor was calling.

“Where the hell are you?” She asked, as soon as he answered the call.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, even as Feyre raised her brow in silent question at Mor’s shrill voice.

“What’s wrong? What’s- seriously Rhysand? I just got a call from Keir, bitching that you have blown off your meeting with him and you ask what’s wrong?”

“Oh, shit.” Rhys muttered. Feyre looked outright alarmed, putting down her cup and looking at him expectantly.

But Rhys could see her thinking, most likely going through her mental calendar of his appointments. Her mouth popped open.

“Tell him I’ll reschedule.” Rhys said.

“Where the hell are you?” Mor asked, ignoring his reply.

He felt a little weird as he replied. “At Feyre’s.”

Mor groaned. Loudly. “I’ll tell Keir.” She said, muttering something he didn’t catch as she hung up without another word to him.

Immediately, Feyre said, “I’m sorry, I should have reminded-”

“Feyre, stop.” Rhys cut her off. “You’re sick. I should have been on top of my stuff.”

And then, surprisingly, she grinned. “I told you, the company is falling apart without me.”

“More like, I’m falling apart without you.” Rhys muttered and Feyre’s grin widened.

She bit her lip, eyes sparkling.

And Rhys asked, “What?”

“I really want to kiss you right now.” She said, looking adorably put out.

“Then kiss me.”

“I don’t want you to be sick.” She protested.

“I don’t care.” He replied and leaned forward.

She tasted like lemon and peppermint as he pressed a soft kiss to her lips. She sighed, one hand wrapping around his neck and sliding into his hair. But where he thought she would pull him closer, she used her grip to pull his face away.

“What-”

“If you get sick, I’ll have more work to do.” She chided him, eyes bright and tone teasing.

He pouted. But she just pushed him back to his side of the couch and closed her eyes.

“Is this a bad idea?” She asked him, after a few deep breaths.

“Do you think it’s a bad idea?” He replied, genuinely wanting to know.

Flirting was one thing. But this, this was something very different.

“I think it was inevitable.” She muttered.

He couldn’t help but smile at that. Because yes, ever since she had breezed into his life, she had brought a spark with her. As always, she was right. This was inevitable. They were.


End file.
